


Gingerbread Men

by rotrude



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Asthma, Christmas Fluff, Coffee Shops, Fluff, M/M, Medical Emergency, Seasonal, Wooing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-13
Packaged: 2018-03-01 08:00:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rotrude/pseuds/rotrude
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's nearly Christmas time and at Merlin's favourite coffee-shop wooing techniques get a seasonal twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gingerbread Men

**Author's Note:**

> (i)Written for the holiday Tic Tac Toe challenge at Merlin-writers. Using two of the image prompts: A Starbucks cup with a gingerbread man and strawberry rolls. (ii) Beta'd by a couple of fantastically lovely people: Archaeologist_D and Sassafrasx..

Merlin Emrys had a favourite coffee-shop, The Heart of Broceliande. 

It was small, some might say cramped, a little quaint with its Breton air and mismatched throne-like chairs, and very welcoming. The far side of the establishment was tromp-l'oeil-ed into resembling a magical forest, trunks and branches twisting and interlocking in impressionistic brush strokes of green and brown. On the opposite wall in a painted fireplace a fake fire burned in red and orange hues and made even the coldest day seem a little bit warmer for its presence. 

To top it off, the crowds that milled about the neighbouring Starbucks never jostled for a place at one of The Heart of Broceliande's tables. Nobody ever wrote Merlin's name wrong on his Styrofoam, either. And with an uncommon name like Merlin, mistakes were rife. At Starbuck's –albeit over a period of years – his name had been twisted into the likes of Marlin, Marvin, and more appallingly, Merkin. 

In short, thanks to its qualities, Merlin liked The Heart and never wanted it to become another chain that had nothing to distinguish it from a thousand other such places. Merlin hoped the Heart of Broceliande would never change.

So, of course, it changed.

Gwen, the nice curly haired lady who greeted him every morning, disappeared in favour of the tall blond bloke who now manned the counter. Gwen, while pretty and armed with a devastatingly sunny smile, had had an easy, natural air about her that had made The Heart feel like a home away from home. 

This new guy instead had Hollywood-style good looks. He was tall and broad shouldered. He filled his shirt with just the right amount of muscle, so he didn't look like Conan The Barbarian on steroids, but was rather pleasantly built. And he had golden hair tousled into a just shagged look.

All in all, the new server came across as the perfect casting choice for Cinderella's Prince Charming. Not that Merlin's life was a film or that this was good, because Merlin didn't want to blush his way through his orders, struggle over enunciating the names of the drinks listed on the menu. And he didn't wish to experience an increase in heart rate every time he paid for his breakfast or lunch. 

Not that that was happening now. But the fact remained, the new server didn't make the place feel as domestic and relaxing as it had once seemed.

Still, Merlin didn't want to have to queue at Starbuck's and be subject to more of its corporate penances. That being the case, he manned up, walked to the counter and instead of saying 'Cinnamon Vanilla latte' as he'd meant to, said, “You're not Gwen.”

The smile, a rather brilliant one that slanted the man's eyes, faded on the server's face. “No, Gwen graduated and started on her new job. I'm Arthur,” he said, tapping his name tag.

“It's just that I'm used to Gwen and Gwen's not...” Merlin fumbled for words and ended up saying, like the moron he was, “you.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. “As you can see, I've not turned into a vivacious, brown haired, five foot three woman.”

“No.” Merlin nodded his head. “Of course you haven't. I mean the only solution for you to be her was if you'd gobbled her up like the big bad wolf in the fairy tales, but this is not one, so, in fact you're not Gwen but yourself.”

Arthur stared rather fixedly at him at first, as if he was trying to comprehend what Merlin had said, which in all honesty he had reason to because it was gobshite, then his eyes lit up, and he burst out laughing until his eyes were a little bit wet with it. “Oh, you're something else.”

“Um, right.” Merlin ducked his head and felt the blush climb up his neck.

“I mean that was the strangest conversation I've ever had over the counter.”

Merlin arched an eyebrow. “What no drunks spinning tales, no one swindling you over the change, no shag me into the back room propositions?”

“Not so far, no,” Arthur said, eyes going a notch bigger, before sliding up and down Merlin. “But now that you've made me aware, I'll be expecting it to happen.”

Before Merlin could parse the meaning of that sentence, the coffee-shop's doorbell rang and an old lady in a fur-lined coat walked in. “I suppose I should order.”

“At your service,” Arthur said, the sides of his mouth going up.

“I'll have a...” His eyes flicked over the menu even though he knew it by heart and he'd already decided what he wanted. “Hot chocolate. Tall.”

“Sweet tooth, eh?” Arthur said, somewhat smugly, as if there was something comical about liking hot chocolate at his age.

“No, not really.”

“Then why are you ordering it?” Arthur asked, eyebrows coming together over the lines crinkling the space above his nose.

Merlin looked outside, at the light flurry of snow being blown slantways by the wind. “Because it's suitably seasonal and it's cold outside?”

“Oh you're one of those then,” Arthur said, without specifying what before turning around to make him his order. As he mixed milk and chocolate he hummed the notes to 'Baby, It's Cold Outside'. When the concoction was ready, Arthur swung round. He picked up a felt pen and said, “Name?”

“I thought you didn't do that over here?” In the two years Merlin's been coming to Heart, they'd never scribbled names on drinks. “I thought they—” He thumbed at the street where the nearby Starbucks loomed. “—did.”

“Well, we're trying to use their technique to snag their clientèle.” Arthur tapped the point of his pen against the side of the cup. “So, name?”

“Merlin,” Merlin said, more breathlessly than the enunciation of his name should warrant. 

“Really?” Arthur lifted his head.

Merlin scowled. “Whatever you want to say, I've heard it all before.”

“No, it's just...” Arthur waved his pen about. “...that the forest of Broceliande is associated with Merlin... the sorcerer obviously, not you. That's all over French literature and Arthurian legend.”

Merlin cocked his head. “Fan of fantasy?”

“Lit student.”

Merlin was about to bite his tongue in vexation at how stupid he'd just sounded when the lady behind him coughed. “Right. I should probably...” He rooted in his pockets for a fiver. “Pay and get going.”

The woman behind him made a pleased noise.

While Merlin searched for the crumpled banknote he knew he'd stuffed in his trouser pockets, Arthur wrote his name in a flourish of whorls and loops. When he was done, he put a gingerbread man, one with icing in the shape of a red scarf and beady eyes, on a dish next to his cup. “Here.”

“I didn't order that,” Merlin said, looking up.

“It's on the house.” Arthur pushed Merlin's plate further in his direction.

“I couldn't,” Merlin started to say, tucking his lip under his tooth. 

“You should.” Arthur gave him a once over. “It'll fatten you up a bit.”

“Oh so you're really into gobbling people up, after all,” Merlin said, eyes crinkling.

“Yes, Merlin, I'm the big bad wolf and I want to eat you.” Arthur rolled his eyes but Merlin didn't detect any annoyance in that. “Or perhaps I just want to give you a freebie.”

“But...” Merlin stammered, and he oughtn't really, because who says no to free things handed over by a handsome man. Yet he couldn't accept. “I'm sure you shouldn't.”

“Oh come on.” Arthur crossed his arms. “You're Merlin, I'm Arthur. This is Broceliande. It's a sign I should be nice to you.”

The lady from before – about whom Merlin had somehow managed to forget – shifted her weight in such a loud way Merlin just knew she was calling for attention. Making Arthur understand why he was objecting (not that he himself knew either) wasn't worth a harangue from her. So he grabbed his piece of confectionery and his hot chocolate, thanked Arthur and ceded the field. 

When Merlin was at the door, Arthur called out, “See you around, Merlin.”

 

**** 

The next time Merlin went to Broceliande, he came armed with books. He did it both because his SSC wouldn't study itself and because a thick tome constituted a great distraction against hot coffee house employees.

Today, the place was more packed than usual. There was a long queue of harried customers carrying festive bags, and Merlin almost considered getting his coffee elsewhere when Arthur winked.

It would be rude to go now. Merlin stayed. When his turn came, he asked for a tall coffee with a sprinkling of cinnamon on top. 

Arthur said, “Got it.”

He turned around and busied himself with the coffee machine. So that the person behind Merlin could get on with their order, Merlin slid to the other side of the counter.

By the time he got there, a tall steaming cup was waiting for him. On a little plate next to it sat a gingerbread man. This one was bigger than the sample from the other time. It had a bow tie and little red boots and looked even more seasonal if possible.

“It's 3.99.” Arthur tore the receipt off the roll.

“That only covers the coffee,” Merlin said, because if there was one thing being a loyal customer had taught him, it was the price of the merchandise. “Not the gingerbread man.”

“Merlin, Merlin, Merlin,” Arthur said, clucking his tongue loudly. “When will you learn? It's on the house.”

“But.”

“No buts, Merlin,” Arthur said, looking as pleased as punch. 

Merlin wanted to argue but Arthur went back to serving the other customers. So Merlin just left a five pound note on the counter, and coffee and plate in hand, went looking for a free table. He found a tiny one in the corner by the window. 

He settled down, placing his coffee in front of him and the gingerbread man to his side. He got his text book out of his satchel and started cramming. Some fifteen pages and a judicious dose of highlighting later, someone pulled the free chair opposite his and said, “May I?” 

“Sure,” Merlin said, without looking up, all the while biting round the pencil eraser. “It's free.”

The person sitting across from him belted out a rich laugh. “What, are you so focused on whatever you're reading you didn't even recognise me?”

Merlin's lips twitched. “That would imply the person I'm talking to has very distinctive tones.” He continued underlining even though he wasn't really understanding what he was parsing anymore. “Memorable even.”

“I'll have you know,” Arthur said, “that I have nicer enunciation than Laurence Olivier's.”

“And the same dulcet tones?” Merlin asked, swiftly glancing up.

“Yes.” Arthur nodded. “You can bet on it.”

“I humbly apologise.” Merlin grinned a little, flipped his book closed and tapped the cover. “Pre Hospital Care. That's what I was focusing so hard on.”

Arthur's eyes widened. “So you're doing medicine?”

Merlin took a sip of his coffee, more for something to do than because he needed more caffeine. “Last year. Yes.”

“That's... good.” Arthur scratched the side of his forehead. “I hadn't pegged you down as a future doctor.”

A laugh tickled Merlin's throat. “You thought I was an idiot, admit it.”

“Perish the thought.” Arthur waggled his eyebrows. “No, but really, I thought you were a more... eclectic type. Musician I'd have said.”

“Oh in my youthful fantasies, I was up there on a stage with the Beatles and the Cure and the Kinks,” Merlin said, tasting for a moment his childhood dreams. “But it turns out that I'm a pretty atrocious singer so it wasn't meant to be.”

Arthur's lips stretched and went up at the corners. “But why medicine?”

“Because you get to help people,” Merlin said, feeling heat creep up his face. That was a stupid answer. It was the classic response to give if one wanted to make oneself look good. Which he wasn't trying to do. Well, he wouldn't mind if Arthur thought well of him, but he hadn't said what he had with that in mind. He had really gone into his studies looking to make someone's life a little brighter. Having voiced that thought though, he didn't know what else to say without sounding like he was bragging. “And my uncle was a doctor, before he retired. He gave me a shove in the right direction.”

“Now that I think about it, I believe it's the perfect choice for someone like you,” Arthur said, sounding very earnest. “You're sure to have a lovely bed-side manner.”

“The FY doctor I'm shadowing says I empathise too much,” Merlin blurted out. He didn't know why he was over-sharing. He'd worried about what that assessment meant for his future, but it wasn't as if Arthur was there to listen to his problems. “It made me fear for my evals.”

“How is what he said bad?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“Well, I suppose it would be if you got too close to your patients and lost your cool at a vital moment. As a doctor, you must be clear-headed if you want to help.”

“I think that's bull,” Arthur said, his eyebrows unknitting. “I think a patient would want a friendly doctor. One who can understand what they're going through. Possibly one with such a happy smile as yours.”

Merlin was babbling some sort of answer when the door to the café opened and Arthur said, “Lull's over. I've got to go.”

When he stopped following Arthur with his gaze, he noticed Arthur had left Merlin's change on the table. So that effectively he had been gifted with another gingerbread man.

 

***** 

Gwaine entered the Heart. “I don't know why you insist on coffee when we could have a beer at that pub over there.”

“Because alcohol is bad for you,” Merlin answered quickly, following Gwaine into the warmth of the coffee shop.

“Potentially so is caffeine.”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “I promise that if you stop nitpicking, I'll get you a rum chocolate.”

“Now you're talking!”

Merlin and Gwaine finally reached the counter. Merlin held his hand up in salute.

When his eyes alighted on Merlin, a smile canted Arthur's lips to the sides. Then his gaze flicked over Gwaine and his grin sobered into that of a proper server. “How can I help you?”

“A rum chocolate and—” Merlin's lips twitched. “—a gingerbread latte.”

“And a slice of that,” Gwaine added, pointing at a huge confection laden with cream, marmalade and strawberries.

“It's 11.90,” Arthur said. “I'll serve you at your table.”

After he'd paid, Merlin said, “Thanks.”

If it was a little breathless, Arthur didn't seem to notice, but Gwaine did because he tutted.

Merlin hoped that wouldn't alert Arthur to anything going on with Merlin, not that anything was, so he dragged Gwaine to a table as far from Arthur as possible.

“Hey, slow down,” Gwaine said, sinking into a booth, splaying his feet wide apart, draping an arm across the back of the brown sofa. “I was ogling the server.”

“Arthur's not the type to welcome that,” Merlin said in a voice he was praying was low enough to guarantee Arthur couldn't fathom they were talking about him. “He's very professional.”

When Arthur noticed Merlin was looking his way, he dimpled and waved.

“He seems rather friendly,” Gwaine said, returning the gesture.

Arthur smiled, but then he seemed to rethink it and his expression changed, his smile turned into a sideways thing and he busied himself at the counter, cutting up slices of cake and garnishing drinks with white and brown powders.

“Stop flirting with my server,” Merlin said, thrusting his chin out and his head down.

Gwaine waggled his eyebrows. “Your server?”

“Oh you know what I mean,” Merlin said, though he didn't himself. A good explanation for what he'd said came to him. “If you get with him and then break up, which you always do, I won't be able to come here anymore. And I like this place.”

“I don't see it.” Gwaine stuck his lower lip out and shook his head. “Even if it went catastrophically badly, you'd have nothing to do with it.”

“I'd feel self-conscious coming here being a friend of yours,” Merlin said. “I'd have to take sides.”

Gwaine gave him a sceptical look. “It still doesn't make a lick of sense but whatever; let's talk about that hottie from the nightclub.”

Gwaine launched into a description of just how alluring said hottie was and Merlin tuned him out because Gwaine did this way too often for Merlin to keep track. 

Just when Gwaine was in the midst of saying something very, very filthy, Arthur came round with their orders. Merlin had to give it to him; though he had heard the last of Gwaine waxing poetic about Club Hottie's blow job technique, Arthur managed to keep his composure. One of his eyebrows ticked a bit, but that was all. “Your order.”

Gwaine got his chocolate and cake and said, “Oh, thanks, mate.”

Merlin was handed his gingerbread latte along with a plate on which two gingerbread men had been placed. They were both as big as his palm, festively decorated and holding hands.

Merlin opted for not saying his usual line about not having ordered anything with his drink. He only smiled and raised his eyebrow. 

“On the house,” Arthur said, sticking to what had become their script.

Gwaine tipped his head back, smiled and asked Arthur, “Why don't I get any cute gingerbread men on the house?”

Arthur's mouth opened and closed, his brow furrowed. “Because you're not a special customer.”

“And,” Gwaine said, looking from Arthur to Merlin, “what makes someone a special customer?”

Arthur's shoulders went up and his cheeks bulged a little as if he was about to blow out air. “Long attendance.” His gaze landed on Merlin before sliding to the floor. “And a nice smile.”

Gwaine whistled at Merlin then straightened, smirked and said, “I have a nice smile, too.”

Arthur shifted from foot to foot. “I'm sure. Er, there's customers coming.” So saying, he swiftly retreated behind the counter.

Once Arthur was gone, Merlin rounded on Gwaine. “What the hell was that?”

“Nothing.” Gwaine sank his fork into his cake, cream oozing. “But at least now I know why you don't want me to try my charms on the nice server. You want him for yourself.”

“Don't be ridiculous!” Merlin screeched. Then subduing his voice, he said, “That's not true. I like Arthur, but I barely know him.”

“Well, it does look as if he wants to get to know you.”

Merlin put his steaming mug down. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want a drawing?” Gwaine asked, tipping his eyebrow up.

“Oh shut it!”

“Then how do you explain the on-the-house gingerbread men?”

“I'm an old customer,” Merlin said, repeating Arthur's mantra. “That's why he gives me free stuff.”

“You mean to say,” Gwaine said, making a face, while he forked a bite, “that that isn't the first freebie you got?”

“No?” Merlin's face went hot about the cheeks and ears. “So what? Arthur's just being nice.”

“Smiling when he rings up your bill is being nice,” Gwaine said as he chewed on his cake. “Giving you your order's worth in freebies is hitting on you.”

Merlin cast his head down, drummed his fingers on the table and jiggled his foot on the floor. “I don't think he is.”

“Oh I'm sure he is,” Gwaine said, taking a sonorous slurp of his spiked chocolate. “And if I were you, I'd act on it. But I'm not you, so I can only advise you to do the same.”

“Erm, I don't know,” Merlin said, humming under his breath. “Frankly, Gwaine, you see sex everywhere. And if you're mistaken and I go up to him and ask him out and he says no...”

“I don't think he will.” Gwaine gave a look at the counter, which was now much busier than before. “For one because he's ogling you as we speak. For another, I know hook up language and that.” He pointed his chin at the plateful of biscuits Merlin hadn't touched. “That's a resounding I want to fuck you.”

“Gwaine!” Merlin palmed his forehead.

Gwaine went on unperturbed. "What that overly festive biscuit actually means is I want to sex you up, and then hold hands with you forever and ever.”

“I think you're touched in the head,” Merlin said, shaking his head. “That's what you are.”

“Look, if you don't ask him out.” Gwaine started waving his hands above his head. “I'll do it on your behalf.”

Merlin was left with no other option but to bundle Gwaine out of the coffee shop, his order untasted.

 

**** 

Over the next few days Merlin did little else but think about what Gwaine had said. Well, he did actually put in some studying and managed to sit for his last exam before the Christmas holidays, but the rest of his waking hours – and non – were spent debating the point.

At times he felt like Gwaine couldn't possibly be right, that he'd said what he said because he viewed life from his Gwaine lenses. According to Gwaine, in fact, everything led to sex. Even the most innocent of gestures could be a potential sexual gambit.

This made Merlin believe Gwaine was simply full of it. He just had to have misconstrued Arthur's signals. That's what Gwaine did, after all.

But there was a part of Merlin that did ask: what if? What if Gwaine was right and Arthur did actually mean something by gifting him with gingerbread men?

Merlin's heart gave a kick in his chest and such a hefty one at that that Merlin felt all the pain of it. 

Okay, all right, if Arthur liked him, Merlin wouldn't say no to him. The thought alone sent Merlin's blood pulsing a little bit faster so that couldn't be ignored. 

He would go and see Arthur, ask him in so many words whether he was into Merlin. If he wasn't, it would hurt but at least he'd no longer wonder. And if he was... 

That could be the beginning of a beautiful something.

It was with the intention of asking Arthur what game he was playing that Merlin pushed open the door to The Heart of Broceliande.

With four days to go till Christmas the place was packed, though, and Arthur had his hands full with all his customers. Right then Merlin didn't have the heart to go up to him and ask about his biscuit giveaway. So he bought himself a long Americano and retreated to a corner.

Merlin was busy sipping his coffee in small measures, waiting for a moment's lull so he could talk to Arthur, when the man sitting in the window seat next to him started wheezing. It was so insistent, so deep, Merlin asked, “Are you all right?”

“Asthma,” the man said, fighting for breath so there was a rattle at the end of each inhalation. “I have asthma.”

Merlin had guessed as much on the basis of his wheezing. There was a quality to it, the whistling sound that accompanied it, that he'd recognise everywhere. “Have you your inhaler with you?”

The man, racked by a dry persistent cough, patted his pockets, then shook his head no.

A deep frown on his brow, Merlin vaulted over to check on the man. He was pale, his colour verging on blueish, and wheezing deeply, panic deep in eyes that had gone smaller. “Okay, all right,” Merlin said, taking in the man sweaty face and tightened neck, “I know this is scary but you must try and relax, concentrate on breathing. Meanwhile, we're going to call 999.”

The man gave him a disbelieving stare. “No, I—”

“We must....” Merlin placed a hand on the man's shoulder. “What's your name?”

“Gilli,” the man said, and that was the last clear word he managed before he started going fully blue.

Merlin put his ear to Gilli's mouth. “Someone call 999 now!” he yelled in as high a pitch as he could. “This man has stopped breathing!”

Merlin's shout alerted the patrons to the emergency. Several people started brandishing their phones and Arthur jumped over the counter and raced towards Merlin. “What can I do?”

“Just make sure an ambulance makes it here,” Merlin said, before easing Gilli on the floor and kneeling at his shoulders. “Tell them I'm giving him CPR but that it's an emergency. Patient's not breathing and is an asthma sufferer.”

As if from far away, Merlin heard Arthur speak on the phone, repeating Merlin's words, but Merlin wasn't concentrating on him, but rather on making sure the ambulance team would find Gilli breathing when they made it here.

He tilted Gilli's head back, put his palm on his forehead and lifted his chin. Once he was sure Gilli's airway was open, Merlin pinched his nostrils and covered his mouth with his. Making a seal of his lips, he breathed for him. He paused, checked his chest for any signs of breathing, then, his own heart squeezing and jumping about against his ribcage in terrified wrenches, he started again. 

“Shit,” Merlin said, when he realised that Gilli still wasn't breathing. “Shit.”

He placed the heel of his hand in the middle of Gilli's chest and set his other hand on top of the first  
one. Elbows straight, he pushed down. “One,” he said, starting a series of chest compressions.

Curious, the crowd gathered close, so close it was Merlin now who had a hard time breathing. Lines of sweat ran down the side of his face and pricked at his eyelids. He couldn't brush them away, only blink the sweat off.

He heard Arthur say, “Make way for him, make way.” Out of the corner of his eyes, Merlin also saw Arthur shepherd the murmuring crowd of patrons back.

Tuning out the onlookers, Merlin concentrated on the number of compressions he was giving.

“Thirty,” he said under his breath, his body turning cold at the notion he had completed a cycle and Gilli still wasn't breathing on his own. 

Shoulders hurting, palms smarting, Merlin started again, his thoughts whirling in chaos. What if he lost Gilli? What if he couldn't do this? He breathed for the man, lent his weight against the pushes. Nothing.

“Oh my God, he's dead,” wailed a woman in the crowd. 

“Thirty,” Merlin said for the second time, before exhaling twice into Gilli's mouth.

And as he pushed air into his lungs, Gilli's chest filled with a breath. Merlin drew back and smiled. “Come on, yes, yes!”

Just as Gilli had taken to breathing on his own, the paramedics arrived. Merlin lifted his head and recognised Lancelot. His heart surged with joy and his lungs filled until he was giddy with it. “Lancelot, thank God, it's you.”

“What happened here?”

“Patient has asthma, went cyanotic stopped breathing,” Merlin said, remembering the protocol he had been taught during his latest SCC elective. “I performed CPR and he's now breathing.”

Lancelot hurried over to his patient, hunkered at his side. “Oxygen pump,” he told another member of his team.

The other paramedic threw him one, Lancelot caught it, and applied the mouthpiece to his patient's lips. “Breathe as normally as you can,” he said, while a colleague of his gave Gilli an epi shot. “Right, nice and easy.”

Lancelot's colleague took the man's pulse.

Lancelot told Merlin, “Lucky you were here. I mean if you have to have an attack, better do do with a med student around and one as quick witted as you.”

“I was glad to help.” Merlin lowered his head. “But it was nothing.”

Lancelot arched an eyebrow, but kept on giving his patient instructions. “We're taking you to hospital in a minute.” 

Lancelot's colleague let go of Gilli's wrist and nodded.

“Okay,” Lancelot said, rising to his feet. “Off we go.”

Lancelot and the second paramedic strapped Gilli onto a gurney. Once the patient was secure, Lancelot smiled, gave him a pat on the chest, then, said, “Okay, people, make way. Make way.”

Before he was out the door, he turned a little, Lancelot winked, made a thumb ups sign. Then he disappeared into the street. 

Merlin sagged into the nearest chair, covered his face with his hands and started cursing in a low tone. 

Someone's clothes brushed against his. The leather of the seat next to him gave a soft creak. “You were pretty brilliant, you know,” Arthur told him.

Merlin shook his head. “At one point I was sure he'd die on me and I panicked."

Arthur bumped shoulders with him. "It didn't look like you panicked at all.” Arthur cocked his head just a little and looked at him out of big eyes. “You seemed calm and collected.” 

"I'm glad I did " Merlin said, his mouth twisting a little. "Though actually, I was fighting the desire to throw in the towel and cry.”

“Well, it worked, didn't it?” Arthur jiggled his foot. “How come you knew the paramedic?”

“Um,” Merlin said, his brain still wrapped in a fog. “Remember I was studying Pre Hospital Care? I just sat the exam. A few rounds on ambulance teams are part of the CSS.”

“Well, that paramedic seemed impressed.”

“Lancelot's generous with his praise.” Merlin shrugged. “Man is just wired like that.”

"I think you're going to be a good doctor," Arthur said, shifting closer.

"Thank you," Merlin said, his heart warming until it felt as if he were all heart and nothing else. “That means a lot.”

“It does?” Arthur huffed. “I know precious little about that. I...” Arthur dipped his head and ruffled the hair at the back of it. “I don't want to sound as if I was talking out of my arse, but you were really something.”

Merlin exhaled hard through his nostrils. “Something bad or something good?”

“You were like George Clooney on ER,” Arthur said, making gestures with his hands. “Only better because you're the real thing.”

“Now you're taking the mickey,” Merlin said, biting his lower lip as he shook his head.

Arthur's eyes flared. “No. I—” Arthur tipped his head down. “I was really impressed and I truly think you've something going for you. Something special.”

Merlin's bones went soft on the inside. Now Merlin didn't think that was due to any pathology known to man. It was just that he had Arthur on the brain and heart and when Arthur said things like that, Merlin suffered all sorts of strange bodily reactions. Oh yes, he was in deep. “No, er, I am not. Not at all. Just a run of the mill student. But—” Okay, his ears were ringing with what he was about to say and scalding at the tips, too. “I can't help but be glad you don't think too horribly, erm...” Merlin really would be okay if the floor opened and swallowed him now. “Of me. Because that would be a great basis for doing what I'm about to do.”

Arthur tilted his head in and his eyes went wide with a question.

Merlin didn't give him time to say anything because he was on a roll and doing this before Arthur turned him down was vital. If Arthur spoke, Merlin would never get this off his chest. “And what I'm about to do is ask you out.”

Arthur burst out laughing, pinched the bridge of his nose between his two fingers and shook his head.

Merlin's insides gave into a panicky freefall. He closed his eyes, breathed, waited for the cold stab of rejection to die down or at least for his heart not to feel like it was bleeding out, and stood. “Right, that was...” He put his small change in his pockets and stuffed his hands in after. “Don't worry about me asking again. I won't—”

Arthur grabbed him. Since Merlin was moving away, his grip slid from forearm to wrist to hand. “Wait,” he said. “I think there was a communication misfire there.”

Merlin compressed his lips. “Look, I get it. The idea makes you laugh. Can we... Can we act as if that never happened? Could you, I dunno, let me go be pathetic elsewhere?”

Arthur let go of him. Held his hands up, but said, “Then I'm pathetic, too.”

Merlin frowned. “Are you pulling my leg? Because you're the reverse.” Merlin tried not to mention all the ways in which Arthur wasn't (i.e fit, attractive, well-read) because that would make Merlin look even more pitiful. “So let's just not.” 

“I'm pathetic because I've been trying to...” Arthur mumbled . “To woo you with pastry.”

“Woo me?”

“Yes,” Arthur said, bobbing his head. “The gingerbread men were a message. Because I like you and I was trying to tell you that without saying it, though of course, not saying anything can lead to misunderstandings, so I'm making a clean breast of it.” Arthur let out a big sigh. “I think you're gifted, brave, have a nice voice and—” Merlin saw a blush cross Arthur's nose. “And you're not altogether bad looking. In all honesty, you're quite hot. So.” Arthur shifted his weight and clapped his hands together, “Would you like to hang out?” Arthur cringed. “I mean would you like to go out on a date with me?”

“Bugger me, Gwaine was right,” Merlin said, mouth opening.

Arthur's eyes narrowed. “That's a no, right?”

Merlin grinned and he didn't care if he looked utterly silly because silly felt good. Joy spread in his chest and made his body sing with it. It warmed him all over. He grabbed Arthur's face, teased his lips apart with his, then touched his tongue inside and it was perfect, because Arthur pulled him in and returned his kiss like for like.

They kept trading snogs for what felt like an eternity but couldn't have been. Some were slow and deep, others were shallow, entirely made of soft slides of lips on lips, with all the flesh-on-flesh catches and slow rubs and slick darts of tongue that came with it.

Arthur's mouth kept opening to the kisses Merlin gave him, around them, his breath tasting like chocolate and cinnamon and pure sweetness, until he looked around and said, "Wait, wait."

Winded from all the kisses, Merlin rasped out a panicky, "What?"

"Everyone's gone," Arthur said.

Merlin swept his gaze across the coffe shop. It was empty of anybody but them. "So they all went home?"

"It's closing time." Arthur smiled. “And I think we gave them reason to go.”

Merlin gave a little snort. "So what now?"

"Wait here," Arthur said, before dashing to the door and turning the shop sign to closed. Then he locked the door, went behind the counter, took something from the display window and dished it. He carried the plate over to one of the tables, plonked down, and patted the seat next to him.

"More on-the-house sweets?" Merlin said, walking over to Arthur's table.

"Those were out of my pocket," said Arthur, cutting into a white chocolate and strawberry roll that was all festively garnished with fake berries. "This is... a little something to celebrate."

"You know you don't have to buy me with sweets, don't you?" Merlin said, his cheeks dimpling. 

Arthur stuck a forkful into his mouth, "No, I know. Now eat this."

So they ate, and shared bites, and kissed till all the shop lights on the street went dark.

 

The End


End file.
